


Dreams of Love

by lennongrad



Series: Agents of Love [2]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Asperger Syndrome, Baking, Cute, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Muteness, Pre-Relationship, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-23 23:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennongrad/pseuds/lennongrad
Summary: After their long "trip" to the Octo Ravine, Agent Three and Agent Eight finally return home. The air between them still has a sense of awkwardness after what was revealed in the ravine. What more will become clear in their dreams?





	1. Home

It had been a long day.

Agents Three and Eight of the Squidbeak Splatoon had just been on a harrowing adventure, recovering from their plunge into the deep Octo Ravine. They had to battle decaying robots and machines in order to escape, and barely made it out alive.

They had just emerged from the ravine, together, just in time to witness their first sunset in days. So they shared a moment together, finally taking a break, stretching their legs and enjoying the beautiful moment. Three wrapped her arm around Eight, who was still trying to handle what had just happened.

Eventually the two Agents need to get going. Agent Three is the first to get up, pushing herself onto her feet and outstretching her hand to Eight, who takes it and uses the leverage to pull herself upright as well.

“Home… should be down this road. Not too far now” says Three, gesturing towards the street. Luckily, even in this dark night, the path was fully illuminated by the glowing street lamps.

Three and Eight set off, following the dimly lit asphalt pathway. Three is comfortable knowing that the road is within a sort of demilitarized zone between Inkling and Octarian control, and thus not likely to be travelled this late at night; they wouldn’t have to worry about collisions from incoming trucks or cars.

Their recent adventure has taken a toll on their bodies, and the long walk home only makes this worse. Three begins to feel a great deal of pain as she walks, with her feet burning with each step, but it’s even worse for Eight, whose body never fully recovered. Eventually, it becomes too much, and Eight starts to slouch over and rest her body against Three.

Eight, after the recent revelation, would have cared more about this prolonged contact with Three, but for now, her tired state is more important. Three similarly is surprised by the development; although Eight’s weight makes walking all the more difficult, she does not dare complain. After all, she really likes feeling Eight’s warmth whenever possible.

The two of them, shuffling in the night, reach their destination after what seems like an eternity of painful walking. Agent Three makes a shushing sign to Eight, signaling for her to try and walk quietly. Inkopolis has recently implemented a curfew, and neither of the Agents are old enough yet to be out at this time of night. For Agents, this is rarely a problem; at the moment, though, Eight is practically incapacitated, so moving quietly and with subtlety is difficult.

Just as the two reach an intersection, Three sees a police car driving nearby, its headlights painting the streets with light. At the moment, the car is driving away from the Agents, so getting past would be-

Crunch.

Eight has accidentally stepped on a broken glass bottle, creating a noise that reverberates for light years around them. The police car, upon hearing the noise, makes a u-turn and speeds towards the source of the noise. Three quickly pulls Eight aside, and the two hide behind a pipe against the wall of the alley.

Luckily, Eight’s boot was not pierced by the glass, and the car speeds past the pipe quickly, with the pipe protecting them from being flooded by light. The policemen ride away, entering another street, giving a chance for the Agents to continue their journey. Rather than risk another incident, Three motions to Eight to climb into her arms.

Three, holding onto Eight’s body, makes her way across the intersection, and enters the small pathway that leads to their home. By the time she reaches the entrance, Eight has already fallen asleep. “Good thing there aren’t any police nearby to hear her cute snoring,” Three thinks, before blushing at the thought and pushing it out of her mind.

She fumbles around with her pocket, trying not to drop Eight while also attempting to grab her keys and unlock the door. Upon succeeding, she enters the entryway into their apartment. She thinks back to the day that she decided to move away from her parents and buy an apartment to make life as an Agent easier; sneaking out every night was difficult when her parents always liked to stay up to watch the Inkopolis Nightly Show.

After locking the front door, Three makes a beeline for Eight’s room, nudging open the door with her foot and gently laying her upon the bed. She then takes the bedsheets and lays them over Eight, tucking her into bed. She considers, only for a second, kissing Eight on the forehead, but she instead only wishes her a goodnight.

“Finally, I can get some sleep…” whispers Three under her breath to herself, walking away from Eight’s room towards her own on the opposite side of the house.

Three changes into her comfiest pajamas and flops into bed, before lazily dragging her covers over her body. She is just as tired, if not more, than Eight, and she is prepared to fall right to sleep, hopefully for a very restful night.

She is so ready to sleep.

Any minute now and she will be dreaming.

Alright, Three admits it. She can’t fall asleep. She doesn’t know how long its been since she got in bed, but it's probably been a half an hour. Why can’t she doze off?

She stares out the window across from the foot of her bed and tries to avoid the question. After all that happened, she is more tired than she has ever been, but something deep in her mind is occupying it and ensuring that no sleep will come. She knows exactly what it is, but acknowledging it will only legitimize the issue.

It’s hard to not think about something, though. She tries to force it out by jamming in other thoughts. What about that new Off the Hook single that just got released? And man, those robots they just fought were so weird! These robots… the MegaModel… confessing to Eight… augh!! Every thought leads back to it. Back to Eight, and how she embarrassed herself in front of her.

Three thinks about the way that she opened herself up, and how, other than one awkward kiss, Eight seemed to have hated her the rest of the time. What had she done? Clearly, Eight didn’t reciprocate. The kiss was probably out of pity. Was the kiss even Eight’s responsibility? Or had Three actually done it, and her mind was playing tricks? Every thought makes her more and more sad, as she tries harder to tune herself out and force herself into sleep.

Three rolls around furiously in bed, completely restless. She twists and turns into every position imaginable, draping the covers over herself in an attempt to feel comfortable, with seemingly every movement bringing forth another way of perceived heat. It seems like it’s another one of those nights, where Three’s waking mind is too haunted by her thoughts for her to ever hope of attaining sleep.

Eventually, the wait is too much. Three decides to get up and out of bed, tiptoeing to the door and then opening it slowly to avoid the horrible creaking. In the morning she’ll get some oil and lubricate it, she thinks, so that it won’t be noisy. If she remembers, that is.

Three continues, quietly and slowly, to make her way to the kitchenette of the apartment. She doesn’t know exactly what she is doing; she just needs something to take her mind off the last few days and lull her to bed. She decides to make a cup of hot tea, since she heard that it helps you sleep, kind of like the opposite of coffee. That’s what Marie said.

She has never made tea before, but she easily finds instructions online, and she already has ingredients from previous aborted attempts. As she makes the tea, though, she finds it increasingly more difficult not to make noise, and begins to question if she should be doing this at.. 3 AM. “It’ll be fine,” she thinks, assuring herself. If it makes it easier for her to sleep, it’ll all be worth it. Plus, if Eight doesn’t wake up, then its no harm, no foul. 

Then, with little warning, her tea kettle begins to whistle louder and louder, until it fills the entire house. Three rushes to try and stop it, but she is too slow to stop the whistling. She quiets it, but the damage is already done, she thinks. Declaring the tea ruined after having cut its time short, she heads towards Eight’s bedroom to apologize, assuming that she has been woken up by the comotion.

When Three enters her room, she finds Eight writhing back and forth in her bed, clutching her sheets tightly against her chest. Her face is compulsing, obviously in pain, but her eyes are closed. Three suspects that she is trying to make some sort of noise, based on her mouth quickly closing and opening as if she is shouting, but she also knows that Eight is incapable of vocalizing due the injury to her larynx Eight suffered shortly after her birth.

Three rushes over to Eight, terrified about whatever she is going through.

“Eight? Eight? Wake up!! Are you okay?” calls out Three, shaking Eight and trying to wake her to no avail. She is completely unfazed by all of Three’s attempts, and continues shaking in her sleep. Three, in her desperate attempts to help Eight, begins to put her arms around her and hug her tightly. After a few seconds, Eight stops shaking, and goes back into restful sleep. 

Three stays like that for a few minutes after, on her knees by Eight’s bed, ready to protect her if she needs to. Unlike when they’re on missions together, the danger she needs to protect Eight from is ethereal and invisible to the eye, yet it is just as real. As much as she wants to, no showing of physical strength is enough to help Eight, to fix her past and soothe her mind. For now, Three just has to hope that the therapist is more effective than she is. After all that Eight has done for her, she at least deserves that.

She gets up from off her knees and moves the displaced covers back over Eight, then walks over and turns the lights back off. This time she can’t fight the temptation and plants a kiss on Eight’s head, hoping that it might make her coming dreams a little nicer than they had been before.

Three decides that she can’t risk this happening again, and sits down on the couch in the living room facing the door to Eight’s room so that she will be able to go help Eight if she needs her again that night. As the night stretches on, her upright posture becomes slouched, and she starts to lay down more and more on the couch, still maintaining a direct line of sight. She then finally drifts asleep, having forgotten her old worries in the commotion.


	2. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight's worries and memories return to haunt her.

Eight looks around desperately, quickly taking in her surroundings. She sees that she is within an uncompleted warehouse, with some parts of the wall showing their girders still, while others have been fully constructed with solid concrete walls. Every few meters in the facility are tall columns made of concrete, blocking her from having a complete field of vision in any single direction.

She pushes herself up from the pile of scrap metal she had fallen onto and begins making her way towards a distant noise in the direction of an opening in the wall. As she does, she notices the sky, which is a deep purple, with walls of stone far in the distance.

Upon reaching the opening, Eight notices the street directly outside, with multitudes of decrepit cars with their paint scratched off. Then, across from the street, at the far end of a grass plaza, she spots an Octoling woman being chased by at least 4 Elite Octoling soldiers in full gear, some of them shooting in her direction. 

As the woman runs through the plaza, she veneers in the direction of Eight, who begins to have better vision of her. When she focuses her eyes upon the woman, she begins to realize who it is.

It isn’t just any random Octoling woman.

This is her mother.

Eight tries to chase after her mother, the Octoling soldiers taking the backseat to the possibility of reuniting with her. As she does so her mother makes another turn, and begins running towards the side of the plaza to the left of Eight. When she reaches the streetway there, however, a Octoling wielding Octo Dualies dodge rolls out of an alleyway towards her mother, who luckily notices in time and reverses herself.

Now, Eight’s mother is running in her direction, giving her some amount of comfort; that is, until she notices a toned, tall Elite Octoling hiding on the side of a tree opposite her mother, carrying a large Octo Roller. Eight is still many meters away from her mother, who has noticed neither Eight nor the large Octoling.

Eight realizes that her mother is going to run straight past the tree, and will be easily splatted by her opponent. She tries to run, faster than she thinks her legs can take her, but she cannot close the distance in time. The heroine tries to wave her arms as wildly as she can, but it is like she is invisible; her mother takes no notice.

She cups her hands together and places them to her mouth as if they were a megaphone, and curls her lips, and tries her very hardest to blow air out into anything that could possibly warn her mother. 

It is to no avail.

She pushes air out with all might, but her screams make no noise. It is like the air around her has been muted. Normally, despite her injuries, she could still make some noise. This is different… and horrifying. 

Eight struggles to comprehend what was happening, as she continued to try, feeling her throat begin to hurt from all the screaming, and being forced to watch as her mother runs past the tree, completely unaware.

Forced to watch her mother be splatted for a second time in her life, see her ink explode in a thousand directions as the Octo Roller comes crashing down.

She keeps screaming, barely having enough air, as the world becomes blurred around her, running together like paint mixing on a canvas, until she is surrounded as darkness. Then, the space in front of her becomes illuminated, and an image appears, with the approximate image quality like an old CRT TV she had seen in her childhood and raided parts from.

As she peers into the newly brightened darkness, she sees a flickering image, that becomes more and more clear as it transitions into a full video. The video depicts a scene that Eight knows all too well; the day that happened exactly 9 days before she lost her mother.

The day when she had her injury, fracturing her larynx and losing her voice.

She watches the video, forcing herself to relive the day. Eight still blames herself for the incident; it was a result of her carelessness. She knows that. So everytime that she has this dream, every night when the horrible flickering video comes to show her the harrowing memory, she makes herself watch it. Maybe if she keeps reliving this event, if she keeps herself in the past, then she can stop herself from having another accident in the present.

It is horrible. She hates it so much, she wants to escape it, but it is an ever present menace, materializing in her dreams and haunting her dozing life at unpredictable times. Just when she has had a break from it enough to get used to not having to face it, it appears again, an unceasing reminder of her failure. 

As she glues her eyes to the ghostly video, she continues trying to scream, creating a echoing silence. Then, as she feels the burning in her throat from wearing out her silent voice, she begins to cry. 

Like she always does. 

She feels so weak. 

She feels so helpless.

But then… there is help. The flickering image pauses, and its pixel apparitions blur away like the world did before. The light that composes the ethereal screen begins to ripple, until collapsing into a smooth orb. This orb hovers in the air, emitting flashes of light at irregular intervals, before moving at a constant, static velocity through the air to the space directly in front of Eight.

Legs, arms, a head reach out from the orb, contorting it into the shape of an Inkling, an Inkling that Eight knows. Its presence and light suddenly feels more warm, like light from a bright LED compared to the light of the sun. This new shape becomes solid, and various colours form, as well as a unique texture, until it truly is a mirror image of her.

Agent Three.

This ghostly form of Three looks ahead at Eight, not quite making eye contact but clearly gazing in her direction. Then, without warning, it moves forward and embraces Eight, taking Eight into her arms. Like the light she had released, she is warm and comforting.

In the midst of this hug, Eight slowly ceases crying. She wraps her own arms around this figure, pulling her even tighter, and taking this opportunity to push away the bad memories. Three’s form takes on the memories, allowing Eight to brush them out of her mind, until her head is clear, and the only thing she is even conscious of is her.

She is not sure how long they stay like that. In real life, they always lingered a little longer than friends usually do, but this was different. In a way, it truly lasted forever, as time blended together. But at some point along that eternity, Three tilted her head back, pushing herself slightly away from Eight, before leaning in and kissing her.

Immediately upon feeling her warm lips, Eight jerks awake, suddenly aware of everything.


	3. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight decides to repay Three for helping her within her own dream.

Eight awakens from her dream, jolted to consciousness by the feeling of the kiss. Her room is bright and alive, with sunbeams spilling through her blinds and onto her floor. She stretches her arms high above her head and peers to the side, learning from her clock that the time is just now 9:00 AM. 

Just in time for breakfast.

She slides out of bed, touching her feet lightly upon the hardwood floor. It is only then that she realizes that she never switched into pajamas the night prior; in fact, she has little recollection of even going to bed. She then realizes that she probably fell asleep right upon getting home, since she was so tired before.  
Wait, no, she thinks harder, and suddenly she remembers being lifted into Three’s strong, burly arms, and having to be carried home and laid into bed. How embarrassing! Yet she couldn’t help but blush at the idea that Three had to hold her so close and tuck her into bed. If she had done the same for Three, Eight probably would’ve thought it was cute.

She tries to put that thought aside and go on with her day, yet as soon as she exits her room out into the living room she sees the aforementioned Inkling laying sideways on the couch, her head lazily draped upon her arm leaning onto the side of the couch, with the scarred side exposed to the air. She had forced her left leg under the throw pillows while her right leg drooped onto the floor. Her mouth is wide open, with just a little bit of drool. 

To Eight, Three is the cutest Inkling she has ever seen.

But she won’t let herself think that. After the cold shoulder Three had given her yesterday, she clearly didn’t reciprocate. Right? That speech she had given to MegaModel was just to distract before Three could do something heroic. Eight had probably just interrupted her by trying to beat the machine herself, which just put Three in more danger. She really doesn’t deserve Three.

She realizes that she had been standing there for minutes, staring at Three’s drooling, sleeping face, and eventually decides to make some breakfast. During their entire adventure, if one could call it such a positive and uplifting term, neither Three nor Eight had eaten a single thing. Inkling and Octoling bodies didn’t need large amounts of subsistence - eating was mostly a luxury of sorts, rather than a necessity - but Eight was hungry nonetheless.

In the kitchen, Eight examines all of the ingredients, wondering what she could make to soothe her stomach. She removes a box of waffle batter as well as a large bowl, a whisk, and other utensils. She pours out enough batter and peers at the back of the box for instructions, before going to grab other necessary ingredients.

As she passes by the stove, she realizes that the tea kettle which the two Agents barely ever use has been left out, with old tea water still inside. Since the liquid within is almost certainly ruined, she decides to pour it out into the sink and puts the kettle back in its spot. As she continued preparing the batter, she wonders about that kettle. Had Three been trying to make tea before? Why did she let it get ruined?

Suddenly, Eight has an idea. She recalls her dream, where Three saved her from another instance of that terrible nightmare, and all the other times in the past where she had saved her in real life. Eight hadn’t given anything back to her, but she deserved so much. So Eight decides to prepare her a breakfast to show how much she appreciates her.

She quickly looks up on her phone if waffle battle can be converted into pancake batter. Luckily it can; Three really loves pancakes, especially with lots of syrup and butter. Eight puts the waffle maker away and gets out a pan, pouring the batter in. She flips them periodically, ensuring that each side is perfectly cooked.

Once the pancakes are done cooking, she places them each on the plate, in a pattern where each pancake is placed and topped with butter and syrup before the next is placed on top of it, forming a tower of light, buttery flavour. She tops it all off with whipped cream. Eight wants to put a cherry on top, but she is afraid that their cherries have gone bad since they had left.

For a drink, she gets out a glass and fills it with milk, which she is certain hasn’t gone bad due to the date, and then mixes in chocolate powder to make it special. Eight wonders if she should go the extra mile and put whipped cream on it, but this seems superfluous, and she suspects that it might melt into the milk right away.

After some deliberation, she does it anyway.

Eight moves over to where Three is sleeping, and pulls the extendable top of the coffee table up. She then places the plate of pancakes and the class of chocolate milk onto it and locks the top so that it won’t move, and then brings over a spoon, a knife, a fork, a plastic green bendy straw that matches the colour of Three’s messy hair, and a load of napkins.

Now that she has created the ultimate breakfast-in-bed for Three, Eight’s only remaining challenge is to decide whether or not to wake Three up. She is a light yet long sleeper, and she might not wake up until the afternoon, by which time the food will be ruined. She doesn’t want to ruin her sleep though, so a conundrum is presented.

Maybe she shouldn’t have made the breakfast in the first place. She wanted to show her appreciation, but she was just going to hurt Three no matter what she did. Why is she like this???

No, no, she tries to calm down. She looks into the mirror at the side of the room on the mantle, peering at herself. She did all this, and she knows that Three will appreciate it. Three always does, even when she’s trying to hide it behind her stoic personality. Plus, Three probably went to bed right when Eight did, so she’s likely to be fully rested.

Eight sits still in the chair besides the couch, hearing the seconds tick by on the clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. She has convinced her mind that the best thing to do is wake her up, but her body isn’t fully on board. For minutes, she sits there, turning around the idea in her head and admiring Three’s cute sleeping face. She deserved the world, and Eight just wanted to do right by her. So she goes over to her and rubs her shoulder.

Three opens her eyes and murmurs groggily. She sits up, freeing her arms, and then stretches them straight over her head and yawns. Eight can’t help but look right at her, admiring every subtle motion.

“Oh…. hey Eight… what’s up?” she says, moving back to lie down on the couch a little, still in the phase where she wants to stay down for just a bit longer.

Eight nervously gets her attention by moving her hands, glad that getting someone to notice her is easier in real life than in her dreams, and then points to the extended top of the coffee table littered with delectable breakfast. 

As soon as Three notices the food, her eyes light up and her mouth curls into a smile, then she sits upright and moves to be sitting right against the tabletop. She uses her sleeve to wipe a bit of drool from her lips.

“You made this just for me, Eight?? Now what did little old me do to deserve this…” she asks, taking in the beauty. Eight is overwhelmed with happiness to see Three admiring her work and not angry at being awoken, and she move to sit on the couch next to three, carefully so as to not tip over the table and ruin the meal.

Eight signs “You,” pointing at Three, and just as Three is about to utter “thank you,” Eight leans in and grasps Three in a full hug, wrapping her arms all around her and putting her face onto Three’s shoulder. Then she pulls back, remaining seated on the couch right adjacent to Three.

“Well let me just say… I should’ve been making this for you! Don’t forget that you’re the one who saved me from that machine!” says Three before beaming at Eight. As she says each “you” she pokes Eight on the shoulder, making Eight giggle.

“As such,” she begins, launching into her fake posh accent as if declaring the announcement from a Squid Queen, “it is only just and fair that I split it with my humble partner, the talented and cute Eight!” Each subsequent word makes Eight blush more and more, with her facing turning pure red and burning up upon Three describing her as “cute.” Eight wonders how on Earth Three has tricked herself into thinking that Eight is cute.

Before Eight can deny the compliments, Three cuts off a piece of pancake, jabs her fork into it, and holds it up to Eight’s mouth. “A gift for the princess,” announces Three, and Eight decides to cease the humility and take a bite of the pancake, taking her first piece of food in days.

Agreeing that she really should be eating, Eight goes to get another plate, and goes back to sit with Three. Over the course of several minutes, they tackle the pancake tower together, sharing sips of chocolate milk and bites of pancake, as Three continues her humorous satire of a Squid monarchy.

“Our queen has ordered the complete demolition of the infamous Pancake Tower because it has failed multiple safety evaluations!” claims Three, making a big motion of swooping her fork into the pancake and flying it into her mouth. She and Eight both keep laughing the whole way through. Eight worries that it may seem a bit childish, but its just some silly fun, so why contain herself?

Eventually, the pancake tower is conquered, with only one cake remaining. They split it half ways, with each gulping it down and savouring their final bites.

Eight points to her mouth, signing for “lots.” Three replies, “oh, looks like we both have syrup on our mouths, even with these napkins,” and Eight nods as they both start to giggle at the silliness of the observation. Three looks at Eight and says, “here, let me help with yours,” and in the heat of the moment - before she really realizes what she is doing - she moves in to kiss Eight, connecting their two lips.

This actually makes the syrup issue worse, but neither of them care; both are equally surprised, even Three, who initiated the kiss, yet they both try to keep it up as long as they can. Eight reciprocates and pushes into Three, and they wrap their arms around each other, hugging and kissing.

Three ends the kiss and immediately looks away from Eight, her face blushing. Her mind is racing, angry at embarrassing herself. Eight is confused, hopeful against her own wishes, and reaches to grab Three’s arm, but she is unaware of this and gets up from the couch before she can grab it.

“I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what got into me, no uh, let me do the dishes, please” mutters Three, her words breaking up and her voice cracking with a combination of sadness, fear, and infatuation. She begins to quickly pick up plates and the glass from the table and move them over to the kitchen, doing everything she can for an excuse to not have to look Eight in the eye and explain herself.

Of course, her sorrow is lost on Eight, who struggles to catch the nuances of her movement and remains deeply confused by her friend, who moved in to kiss her after a very fun time but is now deeply sad, perhaps angry. Had she done something wrong to hurt her?

As she scrubs furiously at the dishes, Three begins to tear up, yelling at herself mentally for yet another stupid move. She had repeated her action of the day prior, opening up herself to Eight who was probably traumatized by it. After finishing her cleaning, she limps past Eight who has stood up and see her, mumbling out another “sorry” before entering her room and closing the door. Once in the room, she flops down on her bed on her stomach, shoving her face into the pillow and trying not to weep. 

How she had ruined that perfect, fun moment! Eight had baked her pancakes, even after saving her; all that Three had to offer was another friendship ruining blunder, leapfrogging her own feelings ahead of her friend.

Eight, still confused, heads over to the door of Three’s room, trying desperately to figure out what had happened. Clearly, by Three’s continuing usage of “sorry,” she had been blaming herself, not Eight. So why was she angry at her? Maybe… maybe she wasn’t. Eight began to really, truly believe that maybe, she hadn’t done something wrong. It was hard for her to convince herself of that often; she was so used to be self-deprecating. Perhaps this time, though, it was true.

That possibility gave her enough motivation to open the door and enter the room, and to see Three laying facedown on the bed. At the noise of the door opening, Three turns her head and finds herself staring right at Eight, who immediately notices the tears rolling down Three’s face. “I’m sorry sorry…” says Three again, but Eight won’t have it. She rushes over to the bed and sits down upon it, then spins herself so that she is facing Three.

Without delay, she puts herself into yet another embrace of her friend, trying to do for her for Three had done in the dream. She leans her head upon Three’s shoulder, trying to be a source of warmth for her. Three is in disbelief, having also convinced herself of the worst, and is even more unprepared for when Eight kisses her square on the lips.

As the two kiss again, feeling those butterflies in their stomach rise, Eight shifts her body weight so that the two gently lean backwards, until they are both laying on the pillows of the bed. This time their kiss is truly natural, holding back nothing, and so they stay like that, embracing and easing in and out of kisses, enjoying themself and knowing, without a single spoken word, that they are truly in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when I will post more about the two agents, but I think that next I will be working on a fic with the Inkopolis Library writing prompt if you know about that. I'll definitely come back to these two eventually, though, so look forward to it!


End file.
